


"Happy birthday, Adam"

by Regnard



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23599129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regnard/pseuds/Regnard
Summary: "...and now he's here, and today is Adam's birthday, and Miller has spent a bloody heap of nerves trying to organize everything in the best way. He did everything he could, just to knock out a place in the restaurant, which, in fact, is closed to the augmented citizens."
Relationships: Adam Jensen/Jim Miller
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	"Happy birthday, Adam"

Prague could be a truly fascinating place at night. Once the shadows cover the city with a thick black veil, here and there turn on hundreds of lights, turning the city landscape into a magical futuristic forest.  
Monument Station is in the center of Prague, located here are the most pretentious buildings, and live the richest people. However, after a while you get used to everything and stop noticing the beauty, that surrounds you every day. Miller was a little jealous of the tourists, who first visited Prague: he wanted to see the city in which he had been living for some time, with their eyes.  
James was leaning against the fence that stood on the canal. In the middle of the river towered a bizarre arch, which was nothing but a secret vault of the local city bank. However, if you do not know what’s inside, the structure could be a very spectacular site.  
While waiting, he was surprised that he never went for walks around the city without much need, especially down the shore of the river. Even though the air is fresh, and the view is beautiful in this part of town. “If only I had someone to come here with”, Jim notes to himself. He looks down at his watch. He realizes that he has at least twenty minutes before his meeting. Jim surprised himself that he came here early. He was afraid of making the other person wait. Also today was his day off (that he gave himself once every hundred years). He lived near by and had nothing planned.  
With a sigh, Miller turns his gaze to the bouquet he bought at a local flower shop. It took him some time to decide which one he wanted. The saleswoman got a little tired of showing him all the bouquets she had in stock. Jim’s first choice was roses since the shop was filled with them. The different colors and sizes made it hard for him to makeup his mind, but roses were the most trivial choice. And then James saw them: black tulips. Quaint, elegant, with a thick stem and fragile delicate petals. Just like Adam Jensen. The choice was evident.  
Miller closed his eyes with a slight smile. Everything that was happening to him now seemed as a figment of his imagination. Until recently, he would have laughed in the face of anyone who would tell him that Jim Miller would go on a date again. And with whom? With a man whom almost a year ago he could not really talk to let alone ask out on a date.  
James did not understand how everything came to this moment. Before the unfortunate incident in London, he did not perceive Jensen as an object of sympathy. Even his first impression of the new agent was two-faced: because of his profession, Miller was good at reading people and immediately realized that Adam Jensen is now his new headache. But not only because the stubborn subordinate did everything that wandered into his mind, ignoring direct orders at every step. All because of the aura that radiated from Adam on each of his visits to the Interpol Department. By the way, not only Jim did notice it, but everyone else too. Jensen really stood out from the crowd. The way he holds his own, his walk, his mesmerizing voice and perfectly sculpted face made him look like a character right out of a detective novel. Miller could not ignore this, but he could forbid himself to think in an inappropriate way. He knew exactly what subordination is and why it should be kept.  
But that case in London changed everything. The poison obscured his mind, made it impossible to think rationally. It was difficult for him to resist the stream of delusional thoughts, especially when his whole life flashed before his eyes. A bunch of silly confessions hovered at the tip of his tongue. Miller said only what was necessary. Gave clear instructions on what to do next — before ingloriously dying on the cold floor of the cafeteria.  
The Orchid was already doing its job and talking became harder every second. He needed to catch hold of at least something with his eyes, fearing not to lose his mind completely. Adam's beautiful, mesmerizing eyes, directly in front of him, were more than suitable for this purpose. The flow of emotions pouring out of these eyes made him speechless for a second.  
“What makes his face look so sad? Me?”, a second thought rushed through his head.  
Miller drives it away. You can’t think of stupid things, even on the verge of death - this is how life brought up Jim.  
Now, taking a thoughtful look at the horizon separating the dark sky and the calm surface of the water, Miller seriously wondered: what if Adam didn't have an antidote? What if he obeyed orders and left his boss to die? The thought made Jim shiver. Indeed, almost having visited the heavenly gates, you begin to appreciate every moment of your life and don’t want to die anymore.  
London divided his life into "before" and "after." Endowed him with courage, honesty to himself and others. And the first thing Miller decided to do after being discharged from the hospital was have a heart to heart talk with Adam. Thank him at least somehow. In words, or deeds, it didn’t matter. Just express his personal attitude to what Adam did for him. Miller remembered when the two of them were sitting after work in a diner and chatting about everything and nothing, and Adam finally removed his annoying HUD, he realized: it’s now or never. “You can’t live your whole life as a coward,” he told himself, unable to take his eyes off those vibrant green mechanical eyes.  
And now he's here, and today is Adam's birthday, and Miller has spent a bloody heap of nerves trying to organize everything in the best way. He did everything he could, just to knock out a place in the restaurant, which, in fact, is closed to the augmented citizens.  
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a familiar silhouette and cannot help but smile. Jensen, literally running out of the alley, slows down. He nervously smoothed his hair and straightened his coat. He looked around, and after taking the most confident and elegant look that he could only do, he moved towards the promenade. Jim felt his chest fill with warmth and his breath caught for a second. When was the last time he saw anyone so excited about meeting him?  
The idea that someone is trying to look even better for him, amuses his pride.  
"Who else is it more beautiful? Adam Jensen, you look like a million dollars," Jim says to himself, chuckling.  
Adam hardly restrains his usual, slightly emotional expression. His sunglasses serve as a good cover for him, but the way he bit his lip nervously betrays how actually excited he is.  
Jim spends a few seconds examining every detail of Jensen's outfit: his usual coat was replaced by fancier one. The patterns on Adam's shoulders are in perfect harmony with the sparkling rings of gold in his eyes, and with the details of his hands. There is no usual body armor under the coat; it was replaced by a neat black turtleneck made of fabric, which looked so soft that Jim hardly restrained himself from having to go over it with his palm.  
"Oh my God, are those classic pants?" he almost said when his gaze dipped below. The smile itself asks from the realization that all of this, so much effort, it’s all for him.  
Finally, taking his eyes off Jensen's clothes, Miller hands a bouquet of tulips and sees how the brunet's eyebrows rise above his shades.  
"That's for me?" - the silence is broken by the Adam’s uncertain voice.  
Jim almost regrets that he decided on such a sentimental gesture. Perhaps he should give something more practical and masculine: a watch, for example.  
"I just thought you'd like them. Am I mistaken?” James replied, trying to cope with the timidity that came out of nowhere.  
Jensen nods negatively. He accepts the bouquet in silence: he seems so impressed with this elegant gesture towards his persona that words of gratitude are stuck deep in his throat. All he can do is open and close his mouth. Finally, he looks up from the bouquet in his hands and raises his head. After a quiet buzz, the black lenses go into the holders, and Miller can enjoy the bitter-sweet expression of the much-loved eyes.  
“God, man, have you really lost the habit of receiving gifts?” James wonders. He feels anger at the whole world for the way it treats such a kindhearted man as Adam.  
“Thank you,” Jensen says quietly. A barely perceptible smile appears on his lips.  
Miller really wants to hug Adam. But he only gets his hands behind his back: he did not want to pounce on him with inappropriate hugs. Especially because they won't be able to get to this level of relations anytime soon.  
“So, did you run all the way here?” instead Jim asks with a sly smile.  
Adam looks up at him. At first, he looks surprised, and then, when Jensen realizes that Miller has seen his recent maneuvers, he drops his eyes in embarrassment.  
“I was detained at a checkpoint, as usual,” the brunette replays, seeing no reason to lie. Trying to piece together the remnants of his equanimity.  
Jim's not answering. It amuses him to see the gleams of childishness in Jensen's serious, bulletproof damper, which he used to defend himself from the outside world. It's better this way rather than seeing how the agent poses as a terminator every day.  
"Let's go. I've prepared a surprise for you, "Miller says with patronage in his voice. Jensen damn well knows how please his ego just by the fact of his existence.  
They cross the street in silence. Adam casts a brief glance at the boss, not daring to ask where exactly they are heading. Jim sees it with the edge of his eye and cannot suppress a smile that tries to stretch his lips. However, he is in no hurry to reveal the secrets: Miller is all in anticipation of Jensen's reaction to their place of arrival. He could almost argue that no one had ever taken Adam to such an exquisite establishment.  
Finally, they stop in front of a two-story building that stands out from the general city landscape. The restaurant is more like an opera house than a place where people come to eat. By the way, the projectors of this building skillfully combined the Renaissance style with modern technology. Most of the ornaments, columns and statues were made not of stone, as tradition requires, but of glass that looked like a crystal and threatened to crumble into billions of crystals from just a blow of the wind. A fascinating combination of stone and glass, strength and fragility, echoed in Miller's head with the image of Adam. Perhaps this was the second reason why Jim chose this place. The first, of course, being Jensen’s fascination with everything related to the Renaissance.  
“We've arrived,” James said, stopping in front of the glass door of the restaurant.  
Miller caught a skeptical look. Adam seemed to be waiting to be told that all of this is just a joke, and, of course, could not be real. A few moments passed, and distrust gave way to discouragement. Jim, with a painful sensation in his chest, watched as his companion looked around, trying to absorb every detail of the building, as if afraid that the clock would strike midnight, and he would be left with a rotten pumpkin and an old dress instead of a beautiful palace.  
“It seems as if he thinks he doesn’t deserve all of this,” a thought flashed in Miller’s head. For the second time in a day, he felt sickening irritation. What does one need to say to a person every day, so that he considers himself unworthy of even such a little thing? It was incredibly irritating.  
With a sigh, Jim said:  
"Inside is even prettier, I guarantee it. Let's go,” the man tried to push back all the bad thoughts on such a beautiful day. As Jensen got closer, Miller opened the door for him.  
James suddenly felt very mature at that moment: as an adult would, not an elderly. He watched Adam enter inside. The brunet’s face was full of dumb childish delight, he was afraid to breathe once again and was more like a believer entering a temple. It’s not that this made Miller feel like a father to him, but…It was hard for Jim to find the right words. He only felt that these 12 years of age difference between him and Jensen are now significantly felt.  
Even if something had happened tomorrow, Miller would have remembered Adam's almost childlike expression for the rest of his days. Jensen looked like a boy who had just seen a magic trick, and Jim was the magician.  
"I will not have the opportunity to experience this with anyone else ever," Miller suddenly thought, and it made him hold his breath for a second.  
And then he noticed his friend, who let him create all this magic. Reluctantly, afraid to destroy the tale in which Jensen was the main character, Jim touched his shoulder.  
"Adam. I would like to introduce you to Francesca Bernini. She is the owner of this restaurant. I persuaded her to make an exception and let us celebrate your birthday here,” he explained.  
Francesca was one of his friends outside of work. They met years ago. Miller rescued her and her children from the clutches of terrorists who took hostages in a bank, far back in Rome. After that, they kept in-and-around communication, and when Bernini decided to open her own restaurant in Prague, they had the opportunity to meet in person. Allowing to spend few hours in her restaurant, even if augs are not allowed — such a small thing compared to saving lives.  
"So, you're the Adam Jensen. It's nice to finally meet you," the woman said with a polite smile, and her eyes squinted a little.  
“I am incredibly grateful that you allowed us ... me to come here,” the agent said sincerely. He wanted to give a hand for a handshake but stopped himself in time.  
"Oh, believe me. I was very intrigued by meeting you. I was told so much good about you that I was almost sure that Jim was describing Jesus Christ to me."  
Jim coughed embarrassingly at her remark and then noticed Adam's considerable gaze. Feeling awkward, the man hastened to turn the conversation in a different direction:  
"The restaurant is amazing," he said. "And as far as I can remember, there's a small art gallery upstairs? Could we take a look with your permission?"  
"Of course, gentlemen," Francesca gave him a smile, and then pointed to the table, near which the waiter was already standing. "Leave your coats here and sit down. First, let's deal with your choice in food, and then move on to art."  
Miller quickly took off his coat and hung it on a gilded elegant hanger. He then walked over to Jensen and, before the man took off his outer clothing, put his hands on his shoulders. Adam turned his head to him with a dumb question in his eyes.  
"Will you let me look after you?" asked Jim with a smile.  
The brunette nodded awkwardly. It was not an unpleasant awkwardness, just no one before offered him to help take off his coat. No one even expressed a desire to touch him unnecessarily.  
Without a word, Adam allowed Miller to serve him.  
The setting of the main hall was pleasing to the eye: it was not some kind of shabby hall with golden chairs and an excess of stucco molding. On the contrary, the dull gilding diluted the pleasant dark tones of the wooden wall panels. They also were decorated with reproductions of famous paintings, and high above his head hung an exquisite crystal chandelier, as if straight from some Viennese opera.  
Jim pushed back the black velvet chair for Adam and took his seat. Still looking around, Jensen sank into the chair in front of him.  
"It's so beautiful here ... I can’t believe that..." - he could only say.  
«... that we are celebrating your birthday at Prague's most luxurious restaurant? - with a grin, Jim agreed. He could not resist the opportunity to tease this simple-minded creature. “Francesca is my old friend. I told her about you, and sincerely asked to make an exception to their rules in the name of our friendship. She agreed on her terms. The restaurant usually closes at nine in the evening, and she agreed to receive us at ten.”  
“Without your help, I would never get here,” Adam summed up and reached for the menu, the leather-bound brochure.  
“This is the least I can do for you,” Miller said a little bewildered. He still could not imagine how someone could be so grateful just because of an opportunity to visit a god damned restaurant. As if it was an equivalent to saving lives.  
After a few minutes of silence, having finished with the choice of food, Jim slammed the menu and rose from his chair. Adam did the same. The restaurant owner, considering this gesture as a willingness to visit the gallery, took several steps towards the stairs leading to the second floor.  
"While they are cooking, we have plenty of time to wander around. I haven't seen the paintings Francesca buys for her gallery, but I think she has good taste," Miller said in a secular manner. However, such pomp made him laugh, and with a giggle, he added in a half-voice: “I don't understand a damn thing about it, Adam. Forgive me. I think these paintings mean much more to you than to me.”  
"It's OK, Jim," Jensen said with an easy smile. "If you want, I'll tell you something interesting if I come across paintings, I've seen before."  
“It seems that if you tell me how fish shit it will sound incredibly fascinating, just because it’s coming from you,” Miller said with a grin, which caused Adam a short laugh.  
Climbing the wrought-iron spiral staircase, the company got into a spacious hall with a number of paintings hung here and there. Adam opened his mouth and, without waiting for Miller, took a few quick steps towards the nearest picture. He began to consider it with the appearance of a connoisseur, and Jim noted with faint regret that he could not share his delight. No, Miller was not a hillbilly; his parents also took him to the opera as a child and introduced Mozart to him. But all the battles and shooting made him much less sensitive to art. Jim could only wonder how Adam, especially after all that he had to go through, managed to retain these faint flashes of romance.  
Leaning against a door, James watched his companion walk from picture to picture. At times, Jensen's face becomes thoughtful, and his lips move as if he was talking to himself.  
Francesca stood nearby, joining in watching the curious visitor. Then she said softly:  
"Exactly as you described," attracting Jim’s attention, she continued: "Adam is an extraordinary personality. You suit each other."  
"Sounds serious," Miller commented with a smile.  
“I mean it,” Francesca turned her head to the man. “When you first told me about your new friend, I began to seriously worry. I just could not imagine that another military man, besides being seriously augmented, could really turn out to be a good person. I'm not a xenophobe,” she corrected herself, seeing Miller frown at her words. “It's just that when you watch so much news, you hear about all these crimes, you begin to feel afraid inevitably. I must say that I am ashamed of my prejudice towards your chosen one. "  
James was silent for a while. The more he communicated with people who were afraid and hated the augmented members of society, the more he understood why Adam was so afraid to open up to people, why his favorite demeanor was pretense. He always pretends that nothing touches him. As if he has no feelings that can be hurt. He does it with everyone, even Jim. Not always, but sometimes when he forgets who he is with. Fighting it - like fighting windmills - is useless. No matter how much time James takes to convince Adam that not everyone in this world wants to hurt him, one wrong word or a sidelong glance reduces all efforts to zero. Jensen is so used to be a victim of someone else's moral inconsistency that he takes another spit in his direction as if it should be so, only taking root in his opinions. Jim is sometimes sick of this. But he tries again and again, maybe he will get lucky.  
With a shake of his head, Miller emerged from the depths of his reasoning, and noticed that Jensen had been standing in front of the same painting for some time. His face is thoughtful and a little sad. Jim went deep into the gallery and stood next to his companion. Then he read aloud the name of the painting, appearing on a neatly framed paper note.  
“The fall of Icarus. Herbert James Draper.” Jim’s voice brought Adam out of his pensive state. He turned his head to him. “Do you like it?”  
“Rather, it brings back memories,” Jensen replies, shaking his head. His gaze shifted to the canvas again. “Not pleasant.”  
James nodded his head. He had no idea what such a picture of mythological content might remind of, but he did not begin to inquire. If Adam wants, he will tell himself.  
The brunette, on the contrary, expecting to be asked, began with a sigh himself:  
“After I got these prostheses, from time to time I see the same strange dream. Those fragments that remain in memory after awakening were imprinted in my brain like a stigma. The dream always starts the same way: I am lying on the table, and above me are scientists, just like from the Middle Ages. They study me as if I were a body in a medical autopsy class”, Adam quietly cringes. “After a moment, I rise above the ground on artificial wings. But because of the heat of the sun, they fall apart, and I fall too. I feel terrible helplessness at this moment, and I always wake up without ever reaching the ground”.  
Jensen pauses, not taking his eyes off the picture. Jim watches him out of the corner of his eye, and then says:  
“We all sometimes have nightmares. Including how we fall,” sounds corny, but that's all James can do. He never considered himself a master of eloquence.  
“It's different,” the dark-haired agent shakes his head, and finally forces himself to look Miller in the face. “When Sarif did this to me,” he raises his hand and opens his palm, “he thought he would exalt me. Like Daedalus Icarus. To the sun. His crazy obsession with augmentations drove me crazy. Moreover, a few years ago I entered a clinic that installed my prostheses and found out some pretty interesting information. There were no medical indications for installing most of my augments. Sarif never asked me if I wanted all this. He decided for me. True, he did not consider that he would not be around when it would be necessary to take responsibility for my fall.”  
“I ... I don't know what to say, Adam,” Jim said tiredly and put his hand on Jensen's shoulder. “No words will be enough for you to stop being tormented by this. Nothing is enough.”  
“You're already doing everything I need, Jim,” Jensen answers, changing his face. It seems that he himself began to understand that he should not burden today's celebration with another rush of self-digging. “Today is my birthday, and I feel like a normal person. For the first time in so much time. Not a machine, not a freak,” he added and exhaled with visible relief.  
Under the weight of such sincere recognition, Jim felt unarmed, unable to say a word. The dramatic pause was absolutely dragging on, and the distant sounds of music saved the need to say anything in response to Miller.  
The men turned at the same time, and James, with a sigh of relief, said:  
"I think we'll have a musical accompaniment. Let's go check it out?"  
It turned out that Francesca was worried about the romantic atmosphere of this already magical evening and asked her fellow musicians to play some soulful Italian songs. A crazy childish thought flashed in Miller's head, and before he could hold her back, she burst out:  
“Shall we dance?” - the man held out his hand to his discouraged companion.  
For a second, it seemed to him that Jensen was ready to refuse. The expression on his face, and his body language, created certain awkwardness caused by such an unexpected proposal. However, then he felt the gentle touch of a mechanical palm on his arm.  
"I cannot dance. I warned you,” Adam said in a low voice and stepped closer, at half his outstretched arm.  
"Me too. But when did this stop anyone?” - Miller answered him, which caused Adam to laugh.  
Really, how much easier is it just to be yourself when there are no extra eyes watching, and extra ears listening? You can do what you have long forbidden yourself, say every thought that comes to your mind. With Jensen, for the first time in a while, Jim felt damn alive. It's as if he's drunk, though he hasn't had time to drink a drop this evening. He did not feel this with any of those whom he had met before. He did not feel this while being with Neal. Gratitude - yes, confidence - is possible. Further, only guilt and shame for the inability to be a good husband and father. But with Adam, everything is different. More romantic people would say that he found the love of his life. He would just say — a soulmate and serenity, after all.  
“Happy birthday, Adam,” said James Miller, trying in vain to regain his breath in between dances.  
“I love you,” he thought, but he was afraid to say it out loud so as not to frighten away the fragile feeling that he had been trying to stir up in Adam all this time.  
Jensen moved closer and before Jim closed his eyes and felt the warm breath on his face, he heard a quiet: “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Adam and Jim is my only favorite OTP in Deus Ex. And I'd like to wrote more about them.  
> Need to say, that English is not my first language, so I would be very appreciated, if you, guys, will correct my mistakes.


End file.
